Flight
by Queen's Own
Summary: She was running- running from them. Formerly an essay for English Class. RR please, NO FLAMES!


Siri: This is something we had to write for English class. We changed the ending to make it fit into Tamora Pierce's wonderful kingdom. As such, we own only the 'she' in the beginning of the story. All else belongs to the illustrious Ms. Pierce.

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They had vanished. She was alone, finally free. She began to run as quickly as possible. As smart a girl as she was would never risk something as precious as freedom. As smart a girl as she was also figured out very quickly that one makes better, as well as quieter, distance through the trees and dense overgrowth when one is walking than running. She slowed to a walk, eyes darting everywhere, searching for a trap or for them to be coming back. Trying to leave no sign of her passing, she succeeded in being silent enough that the foreign sounds of a human were covered by the ambient sounds. Though her bare feet left no tracks, she still left a trail of broken branches, startled animals and other tell-tale signs of her presence.

Sunlight streamed through the branches, lighting the way for her feet. She wanted to pause and soak in the calm world around her –so different than her life- but she didn't dare. As she grew farther and farther away from them, she became more aware of the ambient sounds. Bird calls filled her ears. Leaves blew in the wind. Rocks and pebbles fell, making small sounds that marked the passing of animal feet. She felt the muscles in her shoulders unknot, as she relaxed. She would hear a pursuer. It seemed she was being let free.  

Her feet were beginning to grow sore. Rocks, thorns and other natural obstacles felt as though they'd been embedded in her feet. They were brown now, with dirt, and the undersides were probably black. She winced as her heel dug into a pinecone, producing a loud crunch and a sting in her right heel. Gritting her teeth, she halted for a second, leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. After a few minutes, the sting had faded enough for her to continue walking. 

Feeling something warm run down her leg, she looked down. To her surprise, her leg below the knee was crisscrossed with new scratches that leaked blood. She must have cut in on the undergrowth. Wincing at the sting that only now came, she picked up her pace.

The trees shaded her from the worst of the midday sun, but it was still becoming quite warm. She was sweating and her mouth felt unbearably dry. She had no water, though. Trying to ignore her thirst, she trudged on. Her feet fell heavily on the ground and she felt herself breathing hard. Struggling to blank everything out, she concentrated instead on where her feet fell.

The aches faded. Something she had developed in her thirteen years was the ability to block out everything that didn't matter. But one can only concentrate on the kinds of leaves and rocks currently under ones feet for so long. The aches were back –albeit lessened- before the sun had moved enough for an hour. She was aware of the shallow scratches crisscrossing her legs, the bruise on her head from a tree branch and the ache in her feet, along with other assorted bruises not associated with today's flight.

A sharp crack rang through the forest. She whirled around. No one was in sight. Her fear did not lessen though. There were many hiding places among the trees. She backed up slowly and then burst into a run. Her torn and muddy skirts slapped her legs and tripped her. Scratches on her feet, legs and arms opened and bled again. The sun beat down and made her dizzy. When she breathed, the air came in sharp gasping swallows. The world began to blur. Yet, she was aware of none of it, trapped in a haze of fear and pain, running. She had –for the time being- no sane thought in her mind: only pure, instinctive fear was left to her.

And something was following her: something that kept to the shadows and clearly knew its way around these woods. Her mind spun crazily around one thought: _They've changed their minds. They want me back._

She heard a rushing, too late to register it. She tripped over a rock and went head over heels into the river. It was too deep. Her feet couldn't touch bottom and her skirts weighed her down. She thrashed in the water, but she wasn't going to be able to stay up much longer. The air fled her lungs and she fell into darkness.

She knew she was alive. Air rushed in and out of her lungs in a way she'd never been thankful for until now. She cracked an eyelid open, suddenly fearful of where she might be. Looking around, she saw that she was not with them. To the contrary, she was in a well furnished room, nicer than any she'd ever been in before. A boy with bright red hair and blue eyes sat beside the bed she was nestled in. When it was noticed that she was awake, he raced out of the room. 

Several minutes later, an elegant woman walked in. Her hair had once been the color of her sons, but was now streaked with white and confined by a gold circlet. She wore a long dress of richly embroidered purple, obviously expensive. What looked to be an ember from a fire hung at her throat. But for all of these riches and wonders, her eyes –purple as her dress, much to her astonishment- were sad.

"We feared you weren't going to make it," the woman said kindly. "We're glad you're alright."

She tried sitting up but failed. "You're too weak," the woman admonished. "You've been asleep for  the better part of two days. Liam," she said, turning to the boy. "Would you run and tell your father that I will be a few minutes late to dinner?" The boy nodded and dashed out. "My son," the woman explained. A hint of a smile appeared in her eyes.

"Who- who are you?" she stammered.

"Your name first," the woman replied.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I never had one." The woman's eyes shone with sympathy.

"What would you like to be called, then?" she asked. The girl thought.

"Sera," she said, giving a name that was common enough in the mountains she came from. The woman smiled.

"Sera," she said. "A nice name. Mine is Alanna." She was about to reply when a man dressed in red and gold rushed in.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "His Highness Liam informed the king that you would be late. And His Majesty the King says that you are to come now. There is a delegation from Scanra coming, and no time." The woman sighed.

"I suppose I will have to go," she said, her words weighted with long suffering. "Jonathan wishes me to be there." She smiled kindly at the girl. "Ask any of the servants if you require anything." She turned to leave when Sera stopped her.

"Why did he bow?" she asked, curious.

"Because," the woman answered, her eyes for some reason sadder. "The Jonathan I spoke of is my husband. I'm the Queen of Tortall." Her eyes sad, she swept out of the room.

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Queen's Own: What did you think? Siri demands reviews in return for her servitude. Questions, comments and anything but Flames are welcome and loved!


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